A Celtic Witch - By Debora Geary Page 0,85

and the ladies. Hunger clawed at his insides. He'd used every ounce of magic on the journey here. Seeking. Trying to prop up his wavering, crazed bravery. "Is there anything to eat?"

The weathered, friendly face looked surprised. "Didn't we see you parked outside the inn? Dave has the best food in town."

Damn small towns and their gossip chains and eagle-eyed inhabitants. "I just got here. I was hoping to find Cassidy Farrell." He couldn't feel her here.

"Yep, heard she's playing tonight." His new friend angled them through the crowd. "That's young Ellie Brennan up there right now, though."

Marcus craned his head, trying to catch a glimpse of the low stage. Reached out with what spluttering remnants of mind magic he still had.

Nothing.

"Here, you can eat this while you listen." A paper plate bearing a stuffed pastry nearly crashed into his chest. "Got you one of the ones with flounder. Unless you're one of those mainlanders who likes cow."

He'd have taken one with pebbles and seaweed. Marcus picked it up, his fingers yipping at the heat, and took a bite anyhow - a burnt tongue would be a small price to pay for sustenance.

The flaky crust registered first, full of still-too-hot buttery goodness. And then his taste buds found the innards. He chewed, doing homage to the single best thing he'd ever eaten.

Fuel for the feeblest of knights.

"They could bring an army to its knees, couldn't they?" Blue eyes twinkled as his companion bit into one of his own. "Mildred makes them. Dave's been trying to get the recipe out of her for going on thirty years now."

It was a worthy quest. Marcus stared down at the flimsy paper plate and plastic fork that had come along with the food of the gods. "Thank you."

"First one's on me. You want another one, find Mildred's granddaughter. Two dollars for fish, three for cow. Cass will be on in just a few minutes." The man with the large hands disappeared into the crowd, a blur in the crowded warmth.

Marcus took another bite of the delicacy in his hands, steamrolled by a town where you could buy heaven for two dollars.

And then the music sank in.

Not Cassidy - he knew that before the first three notes registered. The music was young and light and lacked her supreme confidence. But it tugged at him nonetheless.

Slowly, a man in a daze, he worked his way through the chatting throngs, bits and pieces of their mental chatter bouncing off his weakened barriers. It might look like they were ignoring the music, but whoever was playing had their attention.

And she was surprising them.

When he made his way close enough to see, the last thing he expected was a child. A gangly, bright-eyed girl, fingers dancing on a patinaed violin that looked a century older than she was.

A white-haired head leaned in. "That's our Ellie. Good, isn't she?"

He wasn't much of a judge of fiddling, but he knew presence when he saw it. Ellie, whoever she was, knew how to wrap an audience around her little finger.

His Cass could do that.

Marcus felt half the inhabitants of Middle Earth pounding on his skull from the inside out. His Cass.

His lanky informant leaned in again, chuckling this time. "And here comes Buddy to show her how it's done."

The man who walked onto the stage next, fiddle already on his shoulder, was old enough to be Ellie's great-grandfather. And the moment he played his first note, respect flared everywhere in the hall.

He still wasn't Cassidy Farrell - but his mastery needed no introduction. Ellie wanted to be great. Buddy knew that he was. In an understated, modest, grandfatherly kind of way - but this was not a man in doubt of his talent.

Marcus watched, last nerve straining, as the old man sat down on a stool about ten feet from the young girl. She stood straighter, eyes ready. And then he winked at her and his fingers began to fly. Something fast, furious, and Celtic to the core.

It was a dare - even Marcus could figure that out.

Ellie grinned, lightning quick, and chased after the man three generations her senior.

And then Cass walked out.

For Marcus, it was as if all the lights in the world had dimmed. All the sound. Through concrete walls, he heard her pick up Ellie's response. Toss the dare back at the old man. Ever so dimly, he saw the crowd in The Barn pause their chatting and their dancing, all eyes pointed at the stage.

His heart saw